THE INSPIRING SPARROWS. 35 



answering song from the chewink hidden in the hill- 

 side, and no less happy than the warblers because a 

 dweller in waste places and neglected nooks and cor- 

 ners of the farm. " Swamp-robin," indeed, is no bad- 

 name, for swamps are not such desolate spots as the 

 town-dweller is apt to imagine. To me a swamp 

 means freedom. It means nature without man's in- 

 terference ; and when we get as close as possible to 

 the earth and as far as possible from mankind, we 

 begin to breathe and one by one the scales drop 

 from our eyes. To spend the day with a chewink 

 is to spend it in good company and to have an ex- 

 cellent example in the matter of cheerfulness set 

 before us. 



It is possible, perhaps, to be unduly influenced 

 and led to ascribe to birds virtues which they do not 

 possess. In all things we have favorites : favorite 

 flowers, books, houses, cities, and countries, so why 

 not birds? There are scores of them to be met 

 in any summer day's ramble, and they cannot or 

 never do influence us alike. We may be indif- 

 ferent to a swallow and grow enthusiastic over a 

 thrush, but I have always held to the reverse. It is 

 the unobtrusive, overlooked, and underrated birds 

 that claim my closest regard. The crowd that will 

 stand and listen to a rose-breast will be deaf to the 

 chewink. While no less enthusiastic as to the gros- 

 beak's wonderful song, I am always held by the 

 familiar chirp that was a veritable charm and in 

 some degree a wonder when I scarcely knew one 

 bird from another. I never hear the bird but I 



